


Spring Fever or "The Reluctant Nymph"

by issabella



Category: Chronicles of Narnia (Movies), X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Aphrodisiacs, Crack, Fauns & Satyrs, M/M, Mating, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mating Rituals, Nymphs & Dryads, Scent Kink, Voyeurism, beware of charles' flirting and seduction techniques, faun charles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-28
Updated: 2015-08-08
Packaged: 2018-04-06 14:52:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4226055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/issabella/pseuds/issabella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the <strong>Prompt:</strong></p><p>Logan is a lonely lumberjack in <strike>Canada</strike> a far away, mystical country. He can't remember who he is, but he knows that he isn't like the few other men around him. One day he befriends a wise and gentle faun who lives in a cave upstream. Together they explore Logan's healing powers and try to piece together what has happened to him. Until the very simple solution presents itself in spring: He has nymph blood in his veins and his usually so composed friend suddenly turns into a wild-eyed, rutting, 150 pound ball of fur and horns; ready to pounce, claim and mate him right on the spot.<br/>Fluff, Crack or a more serious approach are all equally welcome!<br/>+<br/>It's spring and suddenly the trees seem to have grown eyes. Logan feels spied upon, but that's only the start of his troubles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [XavierineFest2015](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/XavierineFest2015) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
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> Logan is a lonely lumberjack in ~~Canada~~ a far away, mystical country. He can't remember who he is, but he knows that he isn't like the few other men around him. One day he befriends a wise and gentle faun who lives in a cave upstream. Together they explore Logan's healing powers and try to piece together what has happened to him. Until the very simple solution presents itself in spring: He has nymph blood in his veins and his usually so composed friend suddenly turns into a wild-eyed, rutting, 150 pound ball of fur and horns; ready to pounce, claim and mate him right on the spot.
> 
> Fluff, Crack or a more serious approach are all equally welcome!  
> +  
> Very sorry I didn't get very far with this. I hope to add some more still today and maybe even after that. The prompt gave me sort of too many ideas and this is basically my third attempt at writing it.

The sun shines from the blue sky, its golden rays still tame compared to summer but strong enough to warm naked skin. And the foliage from the trees is not yet dense enough to cast the little clearing into cool shadows. So Logan has taken off his sweat soaked shirt sometime during cutting down the tree with his axe and hung it on a nearby branch to dry and him to fully enjoyed the warm sun on his skin after the long winter.

Finally the tree goes down and Logan takes a moment to appreciate his work. It would still take a long time before he would have the trunk cut up into planks that would replace those from his fence that had not survived a faun chasing a shaggy cow running rampant in Logan's garden. Though Logan still isn't sure if most of the damage hadn't been done by the faun and not the cow, who had only been interested in chewing on the late autumn cabbage growing in Logan's garden.

However the faun had been most embarrassed and apologetic and before Logan knew it, he was invited to the faun's cave for tea (Logan declined the milk but added plenty spoonfuls of honey). In the end, despite his resolution to keep to himself, Logan invited him back.

So Logan had made a friend in the faun, Charles Francis Xavier of Clan Tumnus. (Though where the rest of his Clan was, Charles never said.) Charles was someone to while away the long, dark winter away with and someone who he could confide in with the reason he had chosen this solitude life. 

Charles had been eager to help and dragged out scrolls and books he had accumulated in his cave to search for any hints of Logan's condition that anyone might have put into writing. Nothing had come of it. But after some time, finding out about his past, regaining any memory thereof and finding out why his body was able to heal itself, became less important to Logan than Charles' enthusiastic explorations of those things.

Logan rubs over the back of his neck. He should think less and keep working, the fence wouldn't mend itself and if he wants to keep anything from eating his garden, he needed it up sooner than later. 

After the last branches where hacked off, Logan drove his axe into the trunk to take a break. He has worked up a sweat and his heated body feels unlikely to cool off in the still air. He stretches, trying to relieve the tension in his muscles at least.

A sudden grunt coming from the nearby bushes makes him pause. He turns his head in the direction, not bothering to reach for the axe, he balls his hands to fists, ready to release long claws from between his knuckles.

There is nothing he can see. He waits a moment longer, then convinced it was just an animal, turns back to the work at hand. Yet he seems unable to concentrated, feeling that there is something wrong, someone watching. It makes him antsy, wanting to – run away? He shakes his head at the irrational feeling, then turns abruptly and marches over to where he first heard the sound. If it's a badger or wild boar, well he will deal with that. But as he pushes the thorny hedges aside, there is nothing there. The earth looks freshly turned though, as if something had burrowed in the ground. Upon further inspection it appears like the marks stem from hooves, trampling and pawing at the ground. 

So it probably was only a deer of some kind. This findings should be enough to put his mind at rest, but instead he finds himself glancing this way and that, gaze searching the deeper shadows of the forest.

Suddenly self-conscious he roles his shoulders, and spins around as he hears a muffled gasp from one side. Again there is nothing to see.

Logan huffs.

Perhaps he needs a break? To drink some water and maybe even wash the itching sweat from his body.

He turns to grab his shirt from where he hung it on a low branch and stops. Frown creasing his forehead he looks around, but the shirt is neither where he put it nor has it dropped to the ground. Though there are hoof prints, albeit faint, in the soft earth. “What the hell.” 

As if startled by Logan's grumbling, close by a pheasant takes to the air with a cry. Logan had intended to try and follow the trail but something suddenly feels not right. He will clean up first, fetch a fresh shirt and then go in search for the dirty one. Probably just some animal had taken it to make a nest with it, because what else would take the shirt and leave the much more valuable axe behind?

He pulled the axe out of the felled tree and made his way to the nearby pool to cool off.


	2. Chapter 2

The water is still cool, but Logan doesn't mind. It quickly draws the heat from his body and pushes the theft of his shirt to the back of his mind. He watches the water splash over stones where it runs into the pool, the water's surface finally evening out as it becomes calm before it flows on, gaining speed where it runs out of the pool again. 

Logan pushes off, swims the length of the pool a few times, mindful to keep to where the water was deep enough and no stones jutting up from the ground. Finally he pulls himself up onto a large stone, smoothed over by time and water, and lets his legs dangle into the pool. Perhaps he can head upstream later and try and catch some fish to cook. He hasn't seen Charles for some days, him being busy with spring-cleaning or whatever: He had been rather vague when they last met. Dinner would be a good opportunity to invite his friend over.

Logan was content, until the skin of the back of his neck started crawling with the uncanny feeling of being watched. Naked, with his axe lying hidden underneath his bundled up trousers some paces behind him, Logan must appear at a disadvantage to whoever it is watching. Well, they would be in for a big surprise. 

Logan strains his hearing and now that no sound of cutting wood was distracting him, he can make out stifled grunts coming from where he had placed his things. He tenses, ready to – again the absurd urge to run comes over him. He growls. There is nothing out there that could really be dangerous to him. It takes a moment to regain control, but then he jumps to his feet and whirls around. He brandishes his claws and gives a most impressive roar.

There is a thumping and moan coming from behind a rock to one side. Logan growls and takes a step closer in that direction. The sound stops. Quickly he throws a glance to where he put his things and satisfied notes that the axe and his trousers are still there. Then he rounds the rock, expecting to find someone cowering there, but like before there is no one.

Logan lowers his arms and his claws disappear. He bends down to inspect the ground, but the grass is growing dense and short and he can't make out any tracks. Doubt sets in. Who should be watching him? He's been living here a full autumn and winter. He's met the few residents who were avoiding contact with others as much as he did. Except for Charles.

A small smile steals onto his lips. Perhaps the faun's continuous presence has made Logan inadvertently into less of a recluse and now that he hasn't had any one to talk to in days, he has started to hallucinate.

He drags his fingers through his wet hair as he stands up and looks around, feeling a little sheepish. He walks back to the pond, immersing himself in the clear, cold water again hoping to cool off his vivid imagination. 

It seems to work well, until he finally gets out of the pool and plops down on the grass to let the rays of sun dry him off before putting his trousers back on. The moment he stretches out on his back, head cushioned by his clasped hands, the prickling sensation of eyes seizing him up, is back. And he is sure he doesn't imagine the soft panting gasps he hears. No, the watcher is real.

Acting casual, Logan roles onto his belly. He tenses, ready to jump up and finally chase and confront who or what is watching him. The move elicits a sudden loud moan and he now hears clearly words mixed into the primal sound. “oh yes, oh yes... want that…” 

For a moment he thinks he knows that voice but then the words are replaced by low moans again. Logan's skin prickles hotly, his heartbeat picks up, then he jumps up and finds himself taking a step back, as if some kind of instinct is taking over. 

This, the watching, the sudden urges to run from whoever it is, irritates him no end and he charges forward with a snarl.

There is a shocked gasp and the the sound of clattering hooves, as the watcher scrambles away over rock and with a loud crash disappears into the nearest under-bush. Logan is left standing, chest heaving. “Fuck this, I need a drink – and a smoke.” 

Intent on heading home, Logan bends down to retrieve his trousers and axe, and though the tool was still where he had left it, his trousers, including his underwear, are missing.

At Logan's loud roar, startled birds flew up from the bushes.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now for some Charles' POV.

Charles scrambles and slides over rocks, his hooves having a hard time finding traction. His heart is racing and he nearly stumbles then reaches the cove formed by some overhanging rocks and well disguised by thorny bushes. It's only visible if you knew where to look. He slips inside, pressing his back against the mossy wall, just as Logan lets out a loud roar.

Charles heartbeat quickens at the sound. There is a tiny moment of remorse, but then he pulls his price close. The sweaty shirt was already great, smelling of Logan, making Charles' cock twitch. But this was better! Logan's trousers and his underpants. A blissful smile on his lips, he pulls both close and buries his face in them.

The musky smell engulfs him as he inhales deeply. Despite the danger of being heard and found he moans and stomps his hooves. All he could think of was to pounce on Logan, lick along that deliciously wet skin, bite and suck at his nipples, fondle his cock and balls while he sinks his own hard cock into that perfect, muscled arse.

Charles stifles a groan, biting down on Logan's underwear, leaving a wet patch on it.

Oh if only Logan would comply,

For a moment there it had looked like he would turn and run and oh every one of Charles' instincts had told him to give chase.

He closes his eyes and the image of what should be rises clear. Charles galloping along in swift pursuit, Logan running, looking back - making sure Charles can catch up - sly nymph that he is. Charles groans again. What a fool he had been. Puzzling about Logan's strange gifts two whole seasons long. His healing power was only one indicator, and other creatures had those too, like unicorns or werewolves. But there had been other signs that should have told Charles long before what Logan was.

For example the cabbages in Logan's garden. They grew lush round, defiantly so almost, until the first snow came. And he never seemed to have trouble with bugs infesting them. Another indicator was how Charles himself had felt so comfortable next to the tall imposing man, finding in him a perfect companion to while away the dark winter days. 

If only he had fully fathomed before just how perfect he really was. Not just a companion, but a possible mate. Charles growled at the thought.

Only some days ago had realisation finally dawned. As with the first whiffs of spring fever it had finally become clear what was wrong – or rather – what was oh so right. The sudden urge to jump his tall friend and rut against him had taken him by surprise. He'd made up excuses and fled. Only to return once he understood what it was. Nymph blood. Logan was, partly at least, a nymph.

But that 'partly' was what made courting all the more difficult. Charles had done everything properly, and stole one item of clothing after the other. By rights the nymph, Logan, should be wailing about the loss and upon hearing Charles' moans flee until he could corner him. Then Charles would either flirtingly propose a trade – sex in return for the precious clothes, or just jump him. 

Well, the shirt had gotten some stains added now to those sweat stains from Logan. Charles had gone into a little fevered lust-frenzy, caused by desperation as Logan had refused to flee but stood his ground the first time. 

Not that Charles didn't appreciate it. Logan's angry growling or the flexing of muscles, not typical for a nymph. It had come to him as a pleasant surprise that those displays were an actual turn-on for him.

But since the clothes are maybe not so trade able anymore ( he notices that moment that he managed to chew a hole into Logan's underpants) the 'jump him while he tries to run away' had become the only option. Maybe this then would result in some playful wrestling on the ground., before... Charles mouth is suddenly dry and he swallows hard. Now if only Logan would indeed run. And not towards him. Though actually Charles' cock couldn't tell the difference as it throbbed excitedly.

Though clearly, being a nymph, Logan wasn't as good at giving chase, for he had given up rather quickly both times. Finally Charles stopped thinking and paid attention to his surroundings again. He could neither hear Logan splashing about in the pool nor tramping around the place.

Had he calmed down and went back to lying in the sun? Oh what delicious sight that was. Charles eased out of hiding, tugging the claimed clothes under one arm. Carefully he peeked out between some rocks, only to find the area around the pool empty and Logan's axe and boots gone.

Charles purses his lips and his nostrils flare as he tries to take in the sweet scent of a nymph in spring. Agitated, he stomps his hoofs as it becomes clear that Logan must have left right after his roar. And now Charles has wasted time sitting around instead of making hot pursuit.

What if someone else got to Logan first? There was no other faun in the area, but a bunch of rowdy satyr lived closeby. The Brotherhood they called themselves. Usually they stayed well away from Charles' valley but he'd heard their self-appointed leader, Erik, was back again. And he liked to make trouble for Charles. What if he takes a liking to Charles' nymph!?

Charles broke into a klip-kloppy gallop, heading for the tree Logan had felled. Only halfway on his way there, does he realise that the smell of Logan doesn't become stronger in that direction. Actually, giving it some thought, it is more likely for him to head back home, since he no longer had any clothes to wear.

Growling in horny frustration, Charles corrects the direction his hooves had taken him. Perhaps he should have taken Logan's boots as well, then he wouldn't be so fast.

Finally Charles spots him as he comes to the top of the slow rolling hill from which he has a clear view of Logan's hut. And Logan is already halfway there. His back is towards Charles. A shiver runs down Charles' body, his legs start moving on their own, in hot pursuit of that muscular arse.   
This is perfect, his back is to Charles, moving away from him, like a proper nymph should.

Instinctively he keeps to the row of trees growing to one side, trying to keep hidden as long as possible, so his nymph will only spot him and flee at the last moment. Or in Logan's case, stop moving away. 

A breeze has picked up, its direction in Charles favour, blowing away from Logan – and carrying his musky-sweet scent with him. The closer he gets the harder it is for Charles to control himself and before he can think about it, he is running. Charles' blood sings hotly in his veins as he chases his reluctant nymph.

Then Logan appears to notice something. He keeps moving but throws a glance over his shoulder, startled as he spots Charles, running towards him.

Logan stops and turns.

'No, please...' A strange sound, half wail half moan escapes Charles mouth.

Startled Logan takes a step back.

“Yes!” Charles barrels into Logan. Logan catches him but the hill and momentum are on Charles side and the go tumbling down.

“Charles? Charles what is wrong.”

Charles doesn't know where to start. He caught his nymph. He lets his hands roam over Logan's chest, while he humps the leg he's managed to straddle. Oh blissful friction, and his body was way better than Logan's shirt. “Nothing! Nothing wrong... this is so good, so good, so right!”

Then the world suddenly turns upside down as Logan roles them around and straddles him, pushing his hands away and down on the ground. He looks angry and confused. “What the hell, Charles! What's wrong with you?”

Charles smiles dazedly up at him. How unconventional. But he likes that, oh yes, he likes every bit of Logan. “Nothing is wrong. Everything is as it should be. You're a nymph Logan, and I've caught you!” He wriggles, hoping to make his point but then gives up, perfectly pinned by Logan's weight. “Or just maybe, actually, this time you've caught me.”


	4. Chapter 4

What has gotten into Charles? Logan stares down at his friend who only moments before had attacked him and... Logan still tries to process his action and words. It is clear what's on his mind, the way he even now, wriggles against Logan. And how the dense brown fur covering his body below the navel no longer is able to hide his genitals.

The long curve of Charles penis arches up from between his legs and he seems intent on rubbing it against Logan at any opportunity he gets. Something in Logan urges him to back away. But he needs answers, answers that make more sense than Charles' feverish babbling.

“Stop joking!” Logan growls.

“I'm not joking, Logan. You are...” But Charles doesn't finish. His nostrils flare, he takes a deep breath and his lips tremble. “You smell so goo-d! Let me lick you!” Charles' gaze doesn't leave any guesses exactly what part of Logan's body he's thinking of licking.

To Logan's annoyance, heat spreads over his shoulders and neck along with a wave of embarrassment. There is only one explanation to this that makes sense. “Charles, whatever you think – you're not yourself. Perhaps you ate something spoiled. Or – did you drink one of your fruit molasses that was already fermented, perhaps? No, you're not drunk. I've seen you drunk.” Charles had never reacted to alcohol like this. Maybe he got a little more clingy and sure he liked to babble, but not like this.

“No, I'm fine, more than fine.” Charles licks his lips, his tongue gliding restlessly over his lips. The sight makes Logan self-conscious and uncomfortable. He shifts, more and more aware that he is naked and so is Charles. Technically Charles is always naked, except for some kind of west he likes to wear in winter, but due the fur it has never been so obvious to Logan that Charles is running around naked – until now. His gaze falls on the bundle of clothes that had dropped right beside Charles.

With a frown Logan reaches for it, untangles it and holds it up, finding his trousers and mangled underwear. 

“Charles... stop this.” With a growl he bats Charles hands away, that, now that they are free to roam, have started wandering, touching Logan's thighs on their way – well Logan doesn't want to think too much about what part of his body exactly Charles is aiming for. 

So instead he holds his clothes like a shield between Charles and himself, hoping to catch Charles attention with them. “Where did you get these?” He doesn't want to jump to conclusions. Because his friend is helpful, honest and kind - not a sneaky (horny) clothes thieve!

But Charles chuckles, grabs the clothes and tugs. He purses his lips when he can't pull Logan closer. “I took them. For bargaining, and because they smell so good. They smell like you!” His eyes shine.

Logan stares at Charles aghast. “They are sweat-soaked and...”

Charles nods eagerly.

Logan shakes his head. He doesn't know what to say. Asking what Charles had been thinking seems pointless, cause it's clear what his mind is focused on. Still he's sure Charles got it all wrong and this is really the effect of some evil spell.

Charles lets go of the clothes and his hands once more run up Logan's thighs, the touch light and not unpleasant. Quickly Logan scrambles to his feet, holding his bunched up clothes so they cover his groin. “Charles, stop. I don't know what happened, but - you’re wrong about me. Look at me, do I look like a nymph?” 

Charles rolls onto his hooves, crouching in the grass, still visibly aroused and looking like he is ready to pounce. Logan takes a step back and it's the wrong move. Charles stares at him, his gaze hot and feral. He licks his lips, while he seizes Logan up, from head to toe.

Logan fidgets. Asking was a bad idea, at least as long as he's naked he shouldn't encourage his friends strange behaviour. “Forget it. Best you head home and sleep off whatever is bugging you and I'll go home as well.”

He's startled at the vehement way Charles' stomps one hoof in protest. “I gave you back your clothes!” He says it in a way that indicates that fact should have some deeper meaning to Logan.

“You stole them in the first place, so if you are waiting for a thank you, forget it.” It comes out gruffer than intended. Charles looks taken aback. Logan doesn't want to hurt his friend, but Charles is rather annoying and confusing right now. Logan heaves a sigh. “Go home, Charles.”

“I've caught you!” Charles still protests, but sounds somewhat bewildered himself.

“You said yourself, it's more the other way round.”

“It means the same in the end. You're my nymph.”

“Go home and stop making such stupid jokes, Charles.” Decidedly, Logan turns away and starts walking towards his hut, bundled up clothes still kept safely in front of himself to shield his modesty. All the way to his home he tries to ignore that nagging thought that Charles had sounded awfully convinced that what he's saying to be true.


	5. Chapter 5

For a moment Charles is taken aback. How did that happen just now? He stares at Logan's retreating back. It was hard to think when his eyes are busy taking in the sight of muscles moving so smoothly under pale skin. Almost absently he wraps his fingers around his cock, tries to ease off some of the lust cursing through him by touching himself. He mewls in frustration. It's not the same, it's not Logan's hand! 

He is so confused that for a moment he forgets the urge to chase after Logan. Yet it doesn't take long for his hooves to start moving on their own. Why isn't any of the usual mating rituals working. This is bad, very bad, because Charles is only more convinced that he wants, needs Logan. And having been pinned underneath him has given him new ideas of what he might want from Logan.

But why does Logan not feel it, he should know Charles is speaking the truth. Charles had imagined realisation dawn in Logan's eyes once he's told him and then – him kissing Charles and touching him and allowing Charles to lick and bite and... Charles hoofs take him after Logan. He's not exactly chasing him, but he can't simply let him leave.

Should he jump him again, make his point, tear the clothes from Logan's grasp? He doesn't deserve to get them back after all!

No, no he needs to be sensible. Logan is still his friend and he doesn't want to anger or hurt him, even if he doesn't understand what Charles feels and shows no remorse at his suffering. But what is Charles to do, how can he convince Logan that what he is saying is the truth?

Logan reaches the gate to his home, turns for a moment and sends Charles a glare as he sees him still following. Charles stops, shifting restlessly from one hoof to the other. Logan closes the gate and latches it, before throwing Charles another, telling look.

Charles watches him, and knows he wants him, all of him. But despite the heat in his loins and raging hard cock he will bid his time. If Logan is not prone to be courted like a proper nymph - A smile grows on Charles face as he realises the obvious. It's so simple. All he needs to do, is to keep seducing Logan, but since Logan is partly not a nymph and very likely human, Charles has to simply broaden his techniques.

He takes a deep breath to steady himself and reign in his need to follow Logan right here and now.

As Logan reaches the door of his hut and looks over his shoulder, Charles is already galloping across the hill towards his cave.

♦

Wearing clothes again, Logan feels a lot calmer again. He thinks about heading back to continue cutting up that felled tree and realises he has dropped his axe outside when Charles jumped him. He goes to retrieve it, and ends up scanning his surroundings for any sign of Charles without meaning to. 

In the end Logan doesn't leave but makes tea instead, then wonders why, because he doesn't feel like drinking any. Instead he winds up on his back porch and sits down in the rocking chair, smoking a cigar and looking out across his garden. Spring flowers are in full bloom and the lilac branches nearly bending with heavy blooming umbels. 

The air is abuzz with insects, but instead of peaceful Logan finds the sound prickling along his skin, making him restless.

He gets up, walks around the hut to check – to make sure Charles isn't lurking nearby again, intent on stealing more of Logan's clothes. But all is clear. No faun in sight.

Logan grits his teeth. If any other faun but Charles had tried this, he'd have gone chasing after him, axe swinging and claws ready to attack. But of course there are no other fauns here and he is glad, because he doesn't want any other faun but Charles to... Logan shakes his head, as his thoughts become muddled. He enjoys Charles' company, Charles is a reasonable faun – most of the time – and he doesn't want their peace disturbed by anyone else. 

Huffing Logan heads to the back porch again and sits down on the stairs to finish smoking his cigar. 

He wonders if Charles has gotten home alright. Maybe he should visit, they are friends after all, and one strange moment of whatever spring fever has gotten to Charles wouldn't change that. But better if he waits for tomorrow, so Charles can sleep it off.

Or perhaps Charles has decided to do something else against it, perhaps he's off to find a proper nymph – if that's what he wants. The thought has an acrid flavour to it and Logan shifts uncomfortably. He's only worried about Charles, he tells himself. He will visit him in the evening. And to show he's more concerned than angry with his friend, he'll bring him some fish grilled on a stick. 

Content to find something to do (and not of the prospect of visiting Charles tonight) Logan fetches his fishing gear and leaves.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How to court a reluctant Nymph  
> A treaties by ~~a horny Faun~~ Charles Xavier

Charles smells the mix of burning wood and grilled fish from afar. It's delicious, yet not as delicious as the other scent that seems less pungent but nevertheless saturates the air.

Charles stops and tries hard not to start running. He has thought reasonably about this. After finding some, if mediocre, release thanks to his own hand and a lot of filthy thoughts about Logan. Plunging into the cool stream afterwards to bank the fire of his craving has helped too. Logan hadn't taken well to the rushed (proper) approach, so Charles will show him in another way that him and Logan and sex are meant to be and will be as good as their friendship.

He clutches the wooden object in his hand tighter and sneaks closer. He knows the place well, so he has already planned ahead where he is going. There is a tree, just outside the fence surrounding Logan's hut. Logan has a quince bush and colourful blooming aquilegia there, so there is no clear view from the hut to the foot of the tree. So if, no, when Logan's curiosity is peaked, he will have to come to him.

Charles' heart does a little skip at the thought. The idea is strange yet also exciting.

Crouching low, Charles gets to his destination unnoticed, careful so his hoofs make no sound and betray him. He settles on the cool moss underneath the tree. There he drags his fingers through his hair, flicks his long ears and takes a deep breath. 

Logan's scent fills him and as he looks down to find his cock already growing hard again. So much for that. Well he had known that masturbating – even to the thought of Logan – was only a weak substitute and would not even be enough to take the edge of his craving for his nymph. His only hope is that by the time he has lured Logan out, the sight will not alarm him.

The only good thing, he can't see Logan from where he is sitting, so despite smelling him, the distraction and urge to rush over and pounce him, rubbing his body all over Logan's muscular frame is not too big – as long as he stops thinking about Logan's body, or wonder what his cock and balls might feel like in his hands, or how he'll taste, or..

Charles bites his lips, then pulls up the wooden flute he still holds cradled in his hand. This is the only thing he should think about holding now, if he wants to be able to get his hands on Logan. 

Carefully he puts the flute to his lips.

The first few notes are a little unsteady, as he still struggles for calm and even breaths, then the melody starts gently flowing, weaving around Charles, soothing the pang of his unrequited desire. He lets the melody pick up his thoughts, weaving images from his mind into the music and lets them spread out. 

It's calming, a way to bare and voice his desire. Logan has to understand this, if not, well Charles is determined to play as long as it takes. He looses himself in the music and the images his mind spins, careful only of not forcing them on Logan's mind, simply weaving them around him, courting and teasing him with them. Showing him what they could be together, the delicious touch of flesh against flesh.

Charles has no sense of how much time passes, but he smells Logan's scent drawing nearer, then becomes aware of steps approaching. He still doesn't stop playing, worried as soon as he does, Logan will turn around and bolt. And Charles is sure he will not be able not to chase after him then. So his ears flick, trying to catch any hint of sound that tells him what Logan is doing. He stops, close to Charles, shifts his body, then huffs.

With care Charles lets the melody run out and fall silent. He only looks up after he has lowered his flute.

Logan stares down at him, a frown creasing his forehead. To his displeasure Charles finds he's clothed again, the feeling quickly replaced by a smug satisfaction as the idea forms of tearing said clothes off Logan's body. Charles' stubby tail wags in excitement and his balls seem to throb. But he forces himself to stay seated and smile up at Logan, whose cheeks look somewhat flushed.

Logan crosses his arms in front of his chest.

Something important is nagging at the back of Charles' mind. He'd had an elaborate plan of what to do next. It was splendid, infallible, something to do with Logan's hands... lick them, suck at his fingers to indicate sucking something else, grab them and pull them to Charles' cock to show him just how much he wants him.

His ears flick in irritation. He wants to do all of that but it's not what he had planned. Irritated he rubs over the back of his neck and his fingers brush against the leather strap of the bag he has slung across his chest. Slowly realisation dawns. He has brought gifts.

Hastily he opens the bag. Luckily he had found a book in his library that had described human courting rituals. Now bringing a nymph with an already blooming garden of his own flowers seemed rather redundant, but he had found something that should be as acceptable. He fishes a small pouch out of his bag and holds it up for Logan to take. He doesn't dare to get up himself, the urge of pouncing strong already. As long as he's staying seated he at least can grab on to some grass, to keep himself back.

Logan looks from the pouch to Charles.

“What's this?”

The sound of Logan's voice sends a shiver down Charles' back.

“A gift, for you.”

Logan uncrosses his arms, still doesn't reach out for the pouch though. “What for?”

There are many ways to answer that, so Charles chooses carefully. “Because I think you'll like this.”

Finally Logan takes the pouch and Charles holds his breath as their fingers touch. He sees Logan jerk back his hand and rub his fingers together. Charles licks his lips, sure Logan must have felt something too. But he waits and lets Logan look into the pouch.

“They are from some rare flowers. I collected them over time and thought about planting them, but I think they would suit your garden nicely. And everything is sure to bloom here.”

Logan huffs. “Because you think...” He shakes his head, his gaze falls on Charles' lap and he looks away, the blush on his cheeks deepening. He clears his throat and closes the pouch. “Thank you. But this doesn't mean I believe you're right!”

Charles bites his lip then licks it. He has to exercise patience, he couldn't expect Logan to melt into his arms after one courting gift. After all he is a nymph and nymphs are prone to be stubborn. Hence the whole chasing. “Do you mind if I stay here for a little longer and play?”

Logan's expression betrays surprise and a little disbelieve. He looks Charles up and down, his gaze lingering on Charles' erection. He shrugs, a little uncomfortable, though his gaze swings back to Charles' lap before he drags it up to his face again. “If you don't have anywhere better to be. Just... don't do...” He growls and turns around, stalking off.

Charles' legs twitch and he grabs onto the tuft of grass growing next to him. He's trembling all over, unable to tear his gaze from Logan's retreating back.


	7. Chapter 7

The music starts again as Logan reaches his back-garden. The notes sound shrilly and out of tune though and Logan is close to calling out to Charles to stop as Charles seems to give up on playing by himself.

Logan huffs and walks over to check on the smoking fish on sticks and notices he still holds the pouch with seeds in his hands. He puts it aside for a moment, before making sure the fish are coming along nicely, then picks it up again. The pouch smells of leather and Charles' home. Surely he has kept it there for some time now. Logan knows Charles has a thing for rare objects, and now he is giving him those flower-seeds, just because...

Logan's gaze sweeps his garden. It looks lush and green, no patch of brown earth showing, except where he plans to do some planting and has dug up the soil. Bees are abuzz aplenty, flying from bloom to bloom. He's sure this bodes well for a bountiful harvest. But having a nice garden doesn't make Logan something as unlikely as a nymph. It means nothing, that Charles apparently is still horny as hell,though at least he seems to have gotten some grip on himself. The thought of Charles with his hand wrapped around his hard cock comes unbidden to Logan's mind. 

Logan sits heavily back down on his porch again. He shifts uncomfortably and tugs at his trousers, as his own penis has the indecency to harden.

It takes him a moment to realise that the music has picked up again. Clearly Charles has been able to find some composure again, since the notes sound clear and pure. 

The thoughts they invoke in him are all but pure. The sound caresses against Logan's body like a lover. It conveys the idea of a hand caressing along Logan's shoulder, fingers being buried in his hair, kisses getting spread across his naked chest, soft lips brushing over his nipples...

Logan balls his hands to fists and breaths in sharply. He knows what Charles is doing, then why, Logan wonders guiltily, doesn't he go out there and tells Charles to stop as he'd intended to do. 

Instead he'd stared at Charles sitting there, his cock proudly erect and he'd been strangely glad, or even pleased that he'd decided to come here and not go chasing after someone who reciprocated Charles' feelings. 

The sight should have annoyed Logan. He should have sent Charles home, to sleep off whatever bug had bitten him.

Restlessly Logan gets up, the music still weaving around him. He walks around his garden, aimlessly at first. Then he fetches a spade and starts digging up the grass on one side of his porch to make a fresh flowerbed for the seeds Charles has given him. Periodically he checks on the fish, making sure they did come along nicely. He gets unreasonably hot from the little work and soon strips off his shirt again.

From time to time he selfconsciously looks over his shoulder in the direction where Charles is. He feels watched, at least he thinks that must be the reason for his prickling skin. But he doesn't see anything that indicates that Charles has changed his position from under the tree. And from there he has no clear view of Logan's garden.

Finally he pumps up some water from the pump beside the house to sprinkle the freshly planted seeds with. Some cold water sloshes against Logan's legs as he pours it into the watering can and he curses, irritated. He gets the job done then walks angrily over to the pump and fills the bucket once more before upending it on top of himself. Spluttering he stands there, soaked and shivering for a moment before he realises the cold has done nothing to douse his growing erection nor numb the extra sensitive feeling of his skin.

The empty bucket hits the ground. Logan turns and glares in Charles' direction. The music still saturates the air, now raising goosebumps all over Logan's body. He shifts, the wet trousers chafing uncomfortably against his hard cock.

It's Charles fault, for confusing him and playing his infernal music. It would serve him right if Logan was now to strip down and jerk himself off. Something Charles sure would like to do to him.

Charles wouldn't know, he couldn't see. The thought is tempting and growing in appeal. He strips almost angrily out of his wet clothes, throwing them over the porch railing to dry. Then he stands there for a moment, wet, hard and glaring in the direction of the tree with the offending faun underneath.

The faun who surely would kick himself if he knew that Logan was naked, only a few meters away from him, and him having missed it.

It would be just as annoying to him as was the music to Logan, if Logan were to touch himself now. It wasn't giving in to Charles, it was simply him doing what he liked, ignoring whatever Charles wanted him to think.

The flawed logic sounds firm to him. So Logan takes himself in hand. His hand wrapping around his straining cock feels delicious. He strokes himself, rubs his thumb over the sensitive top and presses it against the slit. He almost closes his eyes and groans. The music slithers along his heated skin, and he gives in to it. The phantom kisses now linger against his thighs, it's like strong hands want to push his legs apart.

He staggers a little, sinks down heavily on the stairs and thrusts his hips greedily into his fist. It feels good, but not enough. He needs more, more friction, a hot tongue, a sucking mouth, probing fingers... Logan curses, groans. “Damn you, Charles...” It comes out more a hopeful plea, almost like he's begging for – .

There is a loud crashing sound, penetrating through the haze of Logan's lust filled thoughts. He opens his eyes to see Charles coming crashing through the hedges, disregarding the fence and bushes – and the perfectly working garden gate just a few meters away. Leaves and flower-petals cling to his hair and fur. His nostrils flare and his gaze is wild and glazed. He looks feral, lust-crazed - and like everything Logan wants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess a lusty faun can only stay reasonable for so long and a reluctant nymph is not immune to spring fever after all.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is where the nymph succumbs to the sophisticated wooing of the faun and stops being reluctant. In other words, there finally is sex.  
> Logan's & Charles' POV

The scent of his nymph and sex hang heavy in the air, almost clouding his senses. Yet not in a way so he can't pinpoint where it's coming from exactly. And then it's only a matter of putting one hoof in front of the other, going in a straight line. There are some obstacles in his way, but they all give, bend to his need to get to his nymph. Nothing can stand in his way now.

And the reward is worth it. He comes to a halt at the glorious sight of his nymph sprawled naked, leaning against the porch-stairs. Muscled thighs spread invitingly, hard cock, the tip glistening wet with precome, hardly obscured by the hand wrapped around it.

His short tail wags in excitement, his hands itch to touch, his own cock stiff – all perfect yet not.

It's Logan's hand touching Logan's cock – not his. Why is he touching himself when Charles is here, who will take such good care of him? Charles' legs quiver with the urge to pounce. His hooves tear at the sod underneath.

 

Logan looks up at Charles, standing in front of him, wild, aroused and – trespassing. He should be angry, he should kick him out shouting all the way about how Charles has no respect for Logan's privacy. But he doesn't dare open his mouth, because if he does he's sure he will beg Charles to take him.

There is still some part of him that is irritated and confused about the truth, but more so about the fact that Charles is only standing there, looking at him, when he should touch him and - 

There is the odd thought, that Charles could carry him off. He knows Charles' compact frame is smaller and, despite the muscles hidden under skin and fur, not as strong or heavy as Logan is. But in that moment all he can think about is Charles pressing him close and picking him up. It should make him laugh. Instead he is moaning.

Maybe the sound carries Charles' name, or it's simply the sound that's the trigger. It doesn't matter, because what does is the result. Charles pounces, is suddenly on top of Logan and there are so many sensations flooding his senses. The tickle of fur against his sensitive skin and straining cock, Charles' hands, roaming his body, the touch firm, demanding and every inch of Logan's skin he touches prickles, nerve endings abuzz with lust and desire for more.

Then Charles' tongue laps across his mouth and Logan can't hold back another moan, lips parting, hoping for Charles to find his way there.

The kiss is sloppy, wet, feels more like Charles is trying to mark him with his saliva and yet is the best way Logan has ever been kissed. It's so good he almost misses the way Charles ruts against him, rubbing himself against Logan's belly and his own hard cock.

Logan knows suddenly where he wants, needs that mouth. He grabs hold of Charles' shoulders and tries to push and urge him down. The first reaction is a fierce growl from Charles, that sends shivers down Logan's spine and he growls in return. The low rumble loosens his tongue and he's able to press out gruffly. “Either you get that mouth of yours on my cock or we can stop this right away.”

He's surprised himself at the (empty) threat and Charles' eyes widen, but the eager smile on his red lips speaks of him being less worried and more than eager to comply. Logan hears a murmured “Mine, all mine,” as Charles dives down, then everything is engulfed in warm, wet suction and Logan arches up from the steps with a surprised shout.

 

Logan thrusts up, pushing his cock further into Charles' eager mouth. Logan mewls, whimpers – the sound is hard to place but it's the sweetest thing Charles has ever heard and he wants to coax that sound out of him again and again. 

He pulls back and sucks his fingers into his mouth, then pushes two of the spit-slick fingers against Logan's ass, penetrating the ring of muscles easily. Logan groans but relaxes quickly under Charles' touch, willing and eager. The realisation makes Charles dizzy and he shuffles closer. “Want you, need you, so bad.”

“Fuck just – fuck me!” 

The words and Logan's harsh breathing are like sweetest music to Charles' ears. He can't take it slow and patient, he has been exercising that for way longer than was good for his sanity, he can't be careful, but Logan doesn't sound like he wants or needs that anyway. 

“Perfect, so perfect for me.” One hand on his cock, the other keeping Logan's ass cheeks parted he pushes in. His eyes close as he is engulfed in sensations, hot, tight yet yielding.

Logan's breathing hitches, he feels him tense a little. Instinctively his hands slide up, rubbing Logan's thighs before finding his cock, stroking it. “Hush, it will be alright, it will be good, just a little more.”

“Fuck you're... large.” He says it with such surprise.

Charles' ears flick at the words, and the thought of him doing this to him, it sends a delicious shiver through Charles' body. “And you're tight, mine, you'll get used to it.”

“No – I want this to feel, like this, always.”

Charles pushes in deeper having Logan arch up underneath him. “Like this? Good?”

“Yes!”

Charles crushes Logan's lips with his, kissing him deeply, stifling Logan's moan with his mouth and drinking the warm needy sounds he makes, lapping at his lips as he’s reduced to helpless gasps when Charles starts sliding his cock in and out of Logan's ass. 

He tastes of him, smells of him and soon he'll be filled with his seeds. This is what he's been craving, needing and it's better than what he could have imagined. Logan's body shudders underneath him with every thrust, his chest heaves with each moan Charles fucks out of him. 

It lasts endlessly and is over too soon. Charles' orgasm seems just a thrust away each time, still comes as a surprise and makes him jerk his hips, pushing his cock in deep. He doesn't stop jerking Logan's cock, not until he comes too, hot spurts of come onto his stomach and chest. The ring of muscles clenches around Charles' cock and he bites down on Logan's lower lip.

A bruise that will be quick to fade, but his scent, mingling with Logan's, that will stay, claiming the nymph as his. As will the memories. Charles is sure Logan will never forget the pleasure of their coupling and by rights he should want more.

As reluctant as Charles is to finally withdraw and pull out his spent cock, the more eager he laps the dredges of sperm from Logan's belly and chest, dragging still some more moans from Logan's throat.

Then he catches Logan's hands, encircles his wrists in a gentle grip and shifts so he is straddling Logan's hot sweaty body. Some nymphs try to bolt after the act, usually those who had been very eager and willing at first. Logan hasn't been that, but he'd changed his mind and Charles simply wants to make sure he was his now, for good.

“Was it good?”

There was a grunt from Logan and Charles wriggles on top of him, rubbing his furry legs against the warm body. Only as he is sure Lgan won't jump up, but will stay, muscles and mind completely relaxed, does he let go. Logan's hands make their way quickly to Charles' ass, squeezing it.

“I'm still not entirely convinced about what you said – that I am, somehow – a nymph,” Logan says with a stubborn grumbling.

Charles only grins. The sweaty smell of Logan and sex tickles Charles' nostrils. Along with Logan's touch it makes him wanton again. “Then let me convince you.” And he reaches for Logan's already hardening cock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it. The faun has finally caught his nymph. Yet there will still be an epilogue.


	9. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final Chapter. This fic grew bigger than first intended. But it was a lot of fun to write. Thanks to all you loveley people for your ongoing comments. They made me soar through writing this. ♥

**1 year later**

It is spring. The world is heavy with new life. Flowers bloom again, insects fill the air with soft buzzing that mingles with the chirping of the birds coming from the surrounding branches. 

Logan drives his axe into the fresh tree-stump so it stays wedged and takes a deep breath. The air is fresh and carries a myriad of scents, but one stands out to him in particular. He starts unbuttoning his shirt, taking his time. A smile steals onto his lips as he hears the soft rustling coming from close-by, but otherwise he ignores it – for now.

Finally he pulls the shirt off and uses it to wipe the sweat from his tingling skin. He stretches, working out the tension from his neck, shoulders and back before rubbing the shirt across his chest and belly.

It is harder to ignore the soft moan coming from the undergrowth, the sound like a caress across his sweaty skin. Still Logan doesn't look in the direction it comes from, but hangs up his shirt on a nearby branch. Then he turns back to work at hand, though his mind is already on something else. He pulls out the axe and half-heartedly hacks at one of the cut tree's branches. All the while his ears strain for a sound that will betray his hidden watcher.

There, he stops in mid-motion as the sound of hoofs trampling across soft earth reaches him. He holds his breath for a moment, then deliberately bends down to pick up a random twig.

The patter of hoofs stops and he hears a muffled sigh – muffled by a sweat-soaked shirt for sure.

Suddenly Logan is filled with the urge to wriggle his arse and despite having had a whole year to come to terms with what he is, what spring did to him – and Charles, and made Charles do to him – not only in spring... Logan refuses to give in to the urge and clenches his arse-cheeks.

He hears a groan, suddenly coming from a lot closer and to the side and straightens, looking around widely. How has he missed the sound of Charles moving? His pulse quickens, sending blood down to his growing erection. His own breath starts to come sharp and raspy.

He is ready – ready to run.

There is a flash of red and beige, his flannel-shirt, between the fresh green of budding leaves, then he thinks he can make out brown fur and a flash of a wagging tail. The axe drops from his hands and lands with a thud on the ground, completely ignored.

The faun had stolen his shirt, he should run - or give chase? There is a confusing moment where Logan rocks back and forth on his feet. Then he spots his shirt once more, further away this time, being quickly carried off.

Logan growls and races after shirt and faun, jumping across fallen trees and rocks, nearly getting entangled by a stubborn bramble-bush yet tearing free and following a deer-trail, where he spots the familiar imprints of faun-hooves in the soft earth. But eventually he has to come to a stop as he reaches a narrow stream cutting its way through the forest. He looks around wildly. Where did Charles go? His nostrils flare and finally he can make out a scent that is not like the others. His feet move before he can place the sharp enticing smell. It leads him to a tree, the bark wet with urine, marked by a faun.

Logan unsheathes his bone-claws before he can think about it and slashes them across the bark, leaving a mark of his own. A low chuckle catches his attention and he staggers back. The sound sends goosebumps down his naked back and doubt creeps into his mind.

What is he doing, chasing after a faun? Even if said faun had stolen his clothes. It's not safe. He shakes his head, trying to dislodge the all too nymph like thoughts.

He moves back until his shoulder hits something solid and he whirls around, only to see he's backed up against a large boulder. A feral growl is all the warning he gets as suddenly a 150 pound ball of fur and horns drops down on him. They both tumble onto the ground, roll until Logan ends on top, looking down into wild blue eyes.

“Got you!”Charles almost growls.

“I thought you wanted me to catch you this time.”

“Did – but couldn't resist that arse.” Charles' hands dive below the hem of Logan's trousers, squeezing and fondling said arse.

Logan tries hard not to squirm or push his hips forward, to rub his cock, still restrained by his trousers, against Charles' very free and visible one. He puts his hands on Charles' shoulders though, putting his weight there. He could pull Charles' hands away and trap them too, if he wanted to. “Though isn't it more like I caught you?”

“No.” Suddenly Charles wraps his furry legs around Logan and locks his hooves across his arse, pulling him close, giving Logan the perfect excuse to rub his groin against Charles. “I set a trap and I – entrapped you. You're mine now.”

“Never!” That said, Logan bent down and kisses Charles hard on the lips, leaving them both unable to say anything except give low growls and moans between their fervent kissing. Logan moves one hand to tangle his fingers with Charles' locks and rub his fingertips over Charles' horns, just the way he likes it, as he has learned.

Only as they finally break apart he notices that Charles' hands haven't been idle either, and Logan's belt and trousers are undone and all that is keeping them up is the fact that he is molded to Charles'.

“Wait...”

Charles chuckles and wraps deft fingers around Logan's cock, starting to stroke him. “I don't think this wants to wait.”

“Yes... no... my shirt. You have to give me back my shirt.”

“Too late. It's mine now – just like you.” Charles' fingers rub across the top of Logan's cock, spreading pre-come.

“But ...yes...”

“Yes.” Charles agrees on Logan's moans.

“The rules...”

“I caught you before you could negotiate its return. You still have so much to learn, my beautiful feral nymph.” Charles leers at him.

It is ridiculous, he should have no trouble trapping and immobilising Charles and get the upper hand and yet - yet even after a year the idea of Charles controlling him like this arouses him more than the times he did 'win' this crazy game of spy, steal, and chase and fucking Charles was his prize. Though he learned that Charles' madly wagging stubby tail brushing against Logan's belly always is driving him crazy in all the best ways.

One of Charles hands caresses up Logan's body, tweaking his nipples, making any more protests die in anther moan.

Agilely, Charles wriggles and hooks his hooves into the hem of Logan's trousers and starts working them down Logan's body. Willingly Logan shifts to get it done, trying to push his feet out of his boots without having to break contact with Charles. Finally all the fabric is out of the way for good and the feel of Charles' soft fur brushing against his naked skin is turning him on even more. 

Charles pulls him close for another kiss, then leaves a wet trail to Logan's ear with his tongue, licking it and making Logan lose all ability to speak.

Finally he stops his assault and merely pats his arse possessively. “But since you dared to give chase to me, I will let you ride me so you can fuck yourself on my cock.”

Logan isn't sure if his eagerness to comply is proper nymph behaviour, but then, even after a year, he is still a bit reluctant about accepting what he is. Though maybe – probably - he can live with being an unconventional nymph. 

Especially if that means he can drive Charles' crazy by setting the pace of Charles' fucking him.

So spring comes like it does every year. 

With the sound of birds chirping, the buzz of insects and the loud moans of pleasure from a faun and his nymph.


End file.
